


Par Amour

by prosodiical



Category: Persona 3
Genre: F/M, First Time, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minako and Shinjiro only have one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Par Amour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shslliterarygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslliterarygirl/gifts).



When Shinji touches her, it's hesitant. His hands rest on her hips when Minako leans forward but she's the one who pushes, nips at his mouth, tightens her fingers in his hair. "I won't break," she says, frustrated, and she can feel the wry smile on his mouth.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he says, "you... you don't know what you're signin' up to here."

Minako rolls her eyes and shoves him back; he's so grounded, centered on his feet that it takes quite a push. "Senpai," she says, earnestly, "I know enough. I know that I want this," and he searches her face. He always watches her like she's the light of his life and it makes heat rise to her face even as she holds her ground, hands on her hips. "Senpai," she says with a pout, and when she reaches for him, he reaches back, pressing his nose into her hair.

"You just never give up," he murmurs, and she presses her smile into the curve of his neck as she pushes off his coat, letting it fall to the floor. "Don't let me stop you."

"I won't," Minako tells him, and slides her fingers through his hair, pushing the beanie off his head. His fingers work at the pins in her hair and she kisses him until his hands slide down to her shoulders, grip almost to bruising as he pushes her back onto the bed. Minako's knees bend under her and she drags him down, the heavy, wanting weight of him wonderful but not enough. "Come on," she grumbles, ineffectually shoving at his shirt "get this off," and he shakes his head and laughs.

"Hey," he says, "don't rush it." Minako sighs and leans up to press her mouth to his collar, his neck, his ear as he unbuttons her blouse, one slow button at a time; she leans to kiss him and their noses bump, the angle terrible and she giggles helplessly against his skin. "You," he says, a tease, "are a menace," and she presses her lips to his rough jaw and drags his shirt up and over his head. He's scarred, she knows, worn; but here she can see the toll of the drugs on his body in the shadows beneath his skin, the hollowness of his ribs, and she runs her fingertips along them and doesn't miss the way his face closes off.

"You know," Minako says, "I - I have scars too," because she does; from the car crash, ranging from faint white lines along her arms to a dark marring burn along her hip, from fighting shadows, as they all do. "You're here," Minako says, and ducks her head, hiding her eyes behind a curtain of hair as she presses her mouth to the bruise running along his rib: not from fighting, but from life. "That's what matters, right?"

"Don't," he says, and she pouts at him a little, enough to make him sigh and reach for her, kissing too hard, too desperate, like he wants to crawl inside her skin. "Don't remind me," he says against her mouth between breaths. "You..."

"I," says Minako, "want this, remember?" She straddles him, her thighs on her legs, her skirt brushing his pants, as she catches his lips with hers, her fingers in his hair. He sighs into her mouth, his hands going to her bra, and she helps him with the clasp after he fumbles, leans into his touch. He squeezes her breasts, calloused fingers over her nipples and he quirks a smile as he pushes her back and closes his mouth over one, her body arching into his tongue. "Please," she says, as his hands slide up her thighs, bare; as the curling warmth building between her legs becomes a more urgent wanting heat; "senpai - Shinjiro - please - "

Her panties are wet, soaking as he pushes them down her hips with her skirt and she kicks them off, not even worrying about where they might go; she gasps a wordless noise as he drags his fingers between her folds, rubs up against her clit sending a shock of pleasure sparking through her. "Be a little patient," he murmurs and presses a kiss to her thigh but she squirms and grasps for him, drags him up with her fingers in his hair.

She kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy; their teeth clack and he huffs a laugh against her cheek when she pouts. "Senpai," she whines, "come on," and her fingers scrabble against the clasp of his pants, where she can feel he's hard against her fingertips. His eyes close and he exhales and she makes a noise of triumph as she finally gets the clasp undone, her fingers closing around his cock.

He groans, deep and rumbling, burying the noise in her shoulder as she runs her fingers up and around, feels out the heavy weight of him in her hands. She's aching, wanting more as he pushes forward into her grip involuntarily but he grits his teeth and pulls her hands away, meeting her gaze. "Hey," he says, "you sure about this?"

"Shinjiro-senpai," she says, "now?" She hopes the stubborn set to her mouth will convince him, but his expression is still wondering, strange; she says, "I love you, you know," and he ducks his head, huffing a laugh.

"The way you say that," he murmurs, and she slides forward on her knees, wraps her arms around his neck, presses her mouth against his jaw. He turns his head, meets her in a kiss that's hard and biting; she presses back, trying to prove something, trying to prove herself. She knows she wants this, wants him; it should be obvious in the flush to her skin, the way her breath comes short, the arousal pooling hot and wet between her thighs as she rubs against him. 

He tries to hold back, muscles stiff and tight and she whispers, "Please," into his ear, into his mouth. "I promise," she says, and he closes his eyes and lets go.

When he finally presses in it's a terrible wonderful stretch, pain and aching pleasure and she bites into his shoulder, clutches at his arms as he holds her steady. He presses kisses to her breasts, her neck, her mouth; she shoves at him and he moves, slowly like he's waiting for her to catch up. So she does, pushing him down, back flat on the bed as she rides him; she shifts until she finds an angle that sends jolts of pleasure shuddering through her, his fingers finding her clit making it better, too much better as he watches her like a mirage, like maybe he loves her too - 

Minako comes, shuddering, clenching, her vision full of stars and she rides out Shinjiro's last few thrusts watching the way his eyes flutter, the way he bites his lip and his chest shakes with a low wordless noise as he spills with a rush of heat inside her. She leans forward and presses her mouth to his, kisses him while he slides wetly out of her, kisses him until everything becomes slow, lazy, fond. She's smiling, she thinks; when she pulls back, she can see he is too, though with a wry edge she wants to press away. "I love you," she says again, just to watch his face while she says it because she means it to the bottom of her heart. He buries his face in her hair, his heart still racing beneath his skin, and she can feel it when the tension leaves him in a gust of breath.

"Yeah," he says, "I guess you do."


End file.
